


Comatose

by Clarisse (transnymphtaire)



Series: Advent Calendar 2016 [20]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Child Abuse, M/M, Mafia Boss Voldemort, Soulmates, brief sex mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transnymphtaire/pseuds/Clarisse
Summary: Your spirit ends up with your soulmate when you're unconscious.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've doubted that I would manage to write something in time, as I got home fairly late and ended up doing some other stuff. So if the plot is weird, I'm blaming that.
> 
> Unbetaed.

Great tragedies often fall upon those less deserving.

It’s a very big thought for a five year old to have, but he feel it with his whole body. There’s no other way to explain why he - a mere child - has to run from his obese uncle, who has just gotten home from the pub and did not appreciate the sound Harry made when waking up from a nightmare.

He feel a hand grab his arm, pulling until his shoulder pops out. Then the next thing he know, everything is black.

* * *

Harry looks curiously around the office in which he’s floating. It must be a dream, since he has no other reason to be in an office. Especially not as the last thing he remember is his red-faced uncle catching him. He doesn’t feel any pain, but his shoulder seems to be in place, so maybe pain and injuries don’t belong in dreams?

There’s the sound of a gunshot in the distance. Harry only has enough time to notice the person behind the desk who has been watching him curiously before he wakes up.

* * *

Two years pass by with only smaller injuries, until one summer when Harry finds himself stuck in a tree with aunt Marge’s bulldog barking underneath. He watch the dog warily as he tries to move onto the next branch. His hand misses, and Harry falls out of the tree.

* * *

 It’s not an office he wakes up into this time, but a bedroom. Harry looks around curiously, wondering why it’s first now that he has this kind of dream again. There’s someone sitting on the bed, reading glasses perched on the nose and a large snake around their shoulder. It’s first as Harry floats closer as he recognise the man from the office. The man raises his eye to look at Harry, and opens his mouth to say something.

Harry never gets to hear what as he’s shaken awake by his aunt.

* * *

The next time a serious accident happen, Harry is 13. He and Dudley is walking home from school when Dudley suddenly pushes him. Harry stumbles out into the street, right in front of a car.

* * *

“You’re back.”

This time, the man notices him first. Harry had been too busy taking in the environment; it’s the office from when he was 5 but the interior has changed since then. Something tells him that it didn’t belonged to the man back then.

“This is not a dream, is it?” Harry asks, because it doesn’t seem like anything from a dream. There’s a clear pattern in him appearing as no more than a ghost in an unknown environment every time that he falls unconscious. He hopes it’s a sign that he survived the car.

“It’s not,” the man confirms. “Who are you?”

Harry glance around the office before looking back to the man. He’s not sure he should answer, but it would rude not to.

“Harry.” he says at last.

“What are you doing in my office, Harry?”

He feel like he’s in a more dangerous situation than the one he left. It makes him feel a bit safer when he realise he has floated so that he stands in a chair, his legs disappearing through the fabric.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “The last thing I remember is being pushed in front of a car.”

“And who pushed you?”

Harry makes a face as he answers, “My cousin.”

“And what happened the times before that?”

“My uncle was drunk and angry the first time,” Harry mumbles. He thankfully doesn’t remember much of that. “The second I fell out of a tree.”

“And what were you doing in the tree?”

Harry shrugs, “Hiding from a bulldog.”

The man’s facial expression is like a weird mix of wanting to scowl and being unimpressed.

“You can stay as long as you don’t disturb me.” he decide at last. Harry scowls, but obediently float over to the window to look down.

When he finally wakes up hours later, he can’t remember what he did. He only know that he didn’t get the man’s name.

* * *

He’s 15 years old and his uncle is once more angry and drunk, because his business dinner did not go as expected. Harry is curled together against the wall as his uncle tower over him. He tries to not make a sound at the pain, but it’s hard when a kick aimed at his ribs hits. Just as he starts to dissociate from the pain, he’s hit over the head with something and completely blacks out.

* * *

The bedroom is dark, but there’s the sound of skin slapping against skin, and a woman moaning loudly. Harry tries to leave, to float into the next room so that he doesn’t have to watch, but he’s met with resistance. The wall refuses to budge, even if he’s able to stick his arm through it.

He does not know how much time passes as he’s stubbornly staring at the wall with his hands pressed over his ears, but the next thing he know something is thrown through his chest. Harry spin around to see the man sitting on the bed, casually smoking a cigarette and doing nothing to cover up. The woman is gone.

“You could have watched,” the man say, and blow out some smoke. Harry’s eyes get drawn to his lips, before snapping back up to meet his eyes. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t even know your name!” Harry protests. He hopes that his blushing isn’t visible in the dark.

“Voldemort,” the man offers. “Lord Voldemort.”

Harry feel his jaw drop. He recognise that name; he has overheard it on the TV in connection with drug crimes and murder. It’s the name of a mafia boss; England’s youngest mafia boss in fact.

“Fuck.”

There’s really nothing else to say as the realisation sinks in. Voldemort quirks an eyebrow in his direction, and take another bloss.

“Such a foul word coming from such a pretty mouth.”

Harry has never been more happy to come back to consciousness before.

* * *

It’s Harry’s 19th birthday, and his uncle is in a worse mood than usual. Harry doesn’t feel much happier himself; he’s just waiting to have all his possessions thrown out at the side of the road.

The one thing he doesn’t expect is to get hit over the head with a frying pan as he leaves the kitchen; he had just washed that frying pan in fact. One moment, the word is blurry at the edges. The next, everything has gone black.

* * *

He’s surprised to find himself not in the office or bedroom this time, but instead outside on what must be a private beach. Voldemort is sitting down on a towel, reading glasses once more perched on his nose. Harry can’t help but give him an appreciative once-over.

“Feel free to sit down.” Voldemort greet him, without looking up from what he’s reading. Harry sits down and spread out his legs in front of him. He can’t actually feel the sun or the sand, but it’s fairly nice anyway.

“It’s my birthday,” he say conversationally, just to have something to say. “I’m 19 now.”

Voldemort looks up from his book then.

“And why are you here, Harry?”

Harry grimaces, “Got hit with a frying pan over the head.”

This time he can actually see Voldemort’s expression darken.

“I think it’s about time I come to your rescue. You’ll owe me, of course, but I think you’d be much happier as my apprentice than with those hooligans.”

Harry’s speechless, something he does not experience often. He can only nod, though he’s wary about being the apprentice to a mafia boss. It takes some prompting before he manage to get out his address.

“Good boy,” Voldemort say and stands up. “See you in a few hours.”

As if his consciousness had sensed that the conversation was ending, Harry woke up again.

* * *

A few hours pass by fast. Harry spends the time hiding out in his room, some ice stolen from the freezer held against his sore head. It’s the sound of the door getting kicked in and guns being fired that alarm him that something is not right.

He doesn’t dare leave his room, but it turns out that he doesn’t have to. His door is soon opened by Voldemort, who take one look around and wrinkle his nose in disgust.

“Come now, I want to get out of here.” he orders. Harry is quick to obey.

As they’re walking out of the house, Voldemort slings an arm around his shoulders.

“Did you know that they say that your consciousness seeks out your soulmate when it’s forced out of your body?” Voldemort asks casually. Harry can only gape at him.

He gapes even more when Voldemort smirks at him, and lean down to bite at his bottom lip.

Being the apprentice to a mafia boss is probably not the worst thing that Harry managed to get himself into.

**Author's Note:**

> I actually need some suggestions for stuff you'd guys would like to see, as I looked through my plan and ended up unhappy with the last two. So I need one Tomarry AU and one Tomarrymort AU.
> 
> Also! If I write something for the 25th, what pairing would you guys like to see?


End file.
